July, 2008

(archives)

commitment

– brianprince

i meant (italicized)
to commit
to many things.

i meant (underlined)
to submit to
my authority.

but she said her one son was
the answer. one love
at four years (young).

and i have two
sons. three birds. four cougars.
and three bunnies.

all forcing this
life into one
of idolatry.

south korea. england.
new york. and
new zealand.

obligation.
restriction.
(pause) deterioration.

i go over the
f o r m u l a
over and
(caps) over

again. one
that no (bold) one
looks at.

but me (underlined).
accepting what i see.
some form of (italicized)

rotary dial coin slot skipping cd broken sink peanut
butter and jelly crust click push breathe particles
layered dust on the window sill.

commited to a mental
institution (meant to).
middle eastern tradition.

no variety (elipse) —sonic boom—
no room for parady (italics) commit
suicide.

a process according
to the scribbles
of man.

and a pattern that
fucking
nothing
amounts
to (period).

borrowed time

– brianprince

is what you call it.
in between the lines of
a dashing colon love.
blink. blink.

hour. minute. the second
i see you i want to be with
you. alarm clock rhythm.
snooze-like orgasm.

hit it. and hit it again
9 minutes later. lay beneath
the sheets dictating the
weather. sweating together.

nothing better. than fitting
the last piece of the puzzle
into the dream of a lover.
rewarded. a new vernacular

has sprouted. a spirit sense
you know it’s deeper than
sand. sinking. passion
tumbling. more than charming.

the honesty of this. no
matter what happens i know
i will enjoy this.

kiss.

and will

miss.

these feelings until
the next time one of
us checks the other
out.

[stamp]
Due 7/31/2008.

identity crisis

– brianprince

maybe i’m austrailian and i just wanna be
mexican. born in conundrum. raised as a
southern californian. lived in england.
for some time. pretended to be canadian.
while in kosovo. in nineteen ninety-nine.

tore off the chevrolet patch from my back
pack. with the helping hand of an austrian,
liz. with her swiss army scissors. we were
both traveling and the t.v.’s told us
how much i was hated. t’was somehow related

to the u.s. passport that i possessed. we took
it to the border. and to corfu. we went. pink
palace for oozo. departed for a moment. i to
crete. her to athens. one week after. rendezvous
in rhodes. three. four. weeks. couldn’t leave.

we had a cat. named booze. i worked at a bar.
named plathos. while there. i renamed it
George’s. he was the owner. but he insisted we
call it Grieco’s. i pleaded my non-resemblance to
richard. but he persisted. and we agreed to name

his bar Curious Dick’s. playing reggae music.
no room for a stage so on the speakers danced
the american chicks. and the brit named olly.
he travelled with us back to holland for 4/20.
got a minute. an ignorant stoner-(mis)leading habit.

when we realized queen’s day was 4/30 we headed
back southeast and landed in liechtenstein for
a short night down to milan and two one-way
tickets back to gatwick and never saw george
again. dumbfounded. i really am an american.

everytime

– brianprince

every
time
i sit
down to read some
poetry.

i
daze off.
and
write my feelings.

borrowing
from
the ordinary.

but tomorrow’s
gonna be

different.

– – – – –

i will

read
my feelings.

focus
on
yesterday.

and lend
someone
ordinary
poetry.

so it’ll
just
be
the
same.